Superficial or self-absorbed?
Why I take so many photos of my fashion
I don’t know if I came out of the womb wanting to wear leopard skin. But it’s a serious possibility.
Since I was a little girl, I’ve loved big earrings, handbags, textures that feel good on my skin, and something a little bit EXTRA.
I went through the teen phases of 60s revival, goth, hardcore raver, and house music diva. I’ve been blonde, red, black, brunette, copper, had blue streaks, and now I sport natural grey ones.
As an adult, I dig Vivienne Westwood chokers and knee socks, Italian leather pants, sports caps, moo-moos and Crocs.
I love garish patterns, colour clashes, dramatic black folds of fabric, studs, pearls, tartan, texture, co-ordinating earrings and belts, and chunky boots.
I own about 20 pairs of face furniture (prescription specs/sunglasses).
Believe it or not, my wardrobes are not spilling out or particularly rammed. And I don’t spend a ton of money on clothes. Loads of them are from op shops (Aussie for second-hand/thrift/charity). At the high-end the leather pants were $800 and worth every cent per wear.
Believe it or not, I take around 5 minutes to choose and put on what I’m wearing each day. It very rarely takes a second shot or a change of mind. I guess I have an eye for colour and a memory for what’s in the collection.
FYI: today's post is a quickie about my relationship with fashion.
I needed something light and fast to write about. Partly, to meet my self-set Substack ‘show up’ goal; partly as a circuit breaker from all the business stuff I’ve been focusing on. So, here it is.
Am I superficial for lovin’ clothes?
I don’t give a shit what people think. Yes, it’s just stuff. Yes, they’re externals. But clothes, colour, style, ‘looks’ bring me joy.
When I wear my yellow fur, or blue pants, or crazy art jacket bought in Mexico City (see below), people smile. Oftentimes, they talk to me. I’m approachable because I look fun. It’s a reflection of my insides on the outside.
Looking fun, and feeling great, or sexy, or fit, or vibrant (whatever mood I’m in or manifesting) gives me confidence, sass, and a pep in my step.
Is it vanity to look in the mirror and say ‘hell yes!’? I don’t think so. Not when it’s coming from a woman who’s spent a life-time with a stubborn ol’ slice of self-loathing and tried to shrink herself to fit the perfect image in her head of what she ‘should’ look like. To rock a crop top or silver pair of disco pants at almost 48-years of age is a celebration of my body, over a surrender to ‘wear what’s appropriate’. Stuff that!
There are certain body sculpting fabrics of the satin kind, or the short skirt kind that I know don’t suit me now, or certain race-day looks I’d never want to replicate. I don’t enjoy getting togged up to that level nowadays. Give me a theatrical Helena Bonham-Carter-esque get up for the theatre, though, and I’ll go all out.
It’s an inside out job
I used to wear clothes as part of the mask. The mask to hide what was really going on underneath. Pain.
You can read other posts about C-PTSD and my father’s wandering hands. (#Sorrynotsorry to be so blasé and flippant about it, but I’ve earned the right to say what I please. I find it liberating to slip in a nod to heavy trauma that’s no longer a weight to me).
I used to wear clothes to be seductive. The enticement to draw the attention from men I so desperately sought in the absence of my dad.
Gradually, I returned to wearing clothes purely for joy. Just as I did pre-family-dynamic-obliteration.
I once turned up to a first date dressed head to toe in purple. 5 different items: leather pants, cashmere roll neck, lilac wool jacket, purple patchwork leather boots, and a crossbody bag. If someone can’t handle that…they’re not my person.
Now, my exterior is a reflection of an inside job. I’ve spent years healing, practicing daily spirituality, and learning all sorts of behavioural change modalities. I learned how to dial down the unhelpful traits and dial up the love.
Today, my clothes are a signal to the world that I am joy. They say, come talk to me. I’m a safe place. I’ll make you smile. Come on, make eye contact with me. I dare you to feel good.
They also remind me that I’m happy with who I am. If I’m having a flat day, I wear something crazy. If I’m having a comfy day, I’ll wear at least one item that's childish and the co-ordination will be on point. If I’m going out, I’ll wear something that does NOT fit the occasion if the mood takes me.
At work, I’m into men’s shirts, ties and curly hair at the moment. The kids vibe off what they say must be ‘a massive wardrobe because [I] never wear the same thing twice.’ I do, it’s just in a different combination.
Posting looks on socials
This is where some people might say it’s a bit much. Is there any need to share what I’m wearing?
I used to post a lot of my fashion statements. I loved the likes and comments. Then I stopped. I was sick of getting hits of validation from Facebook and Insta and losing time in soul-sucking doomscrolls.
But, then I kinda missed it. Why? Because my camera roll, and my Insta became the place I went when I couldn’t think of what to wear. Did that blouse go with those pants? Which costume jewellery went with those shoes? My past creativity is preserved in my timeline, like a looks library.
I’ve been posting in my stories lately so as to not crowd my wall, but that’s daft as they disappear. I think I’ll do a monthly wrap of outfits, so I can preserve them for future inspiration, but not be on my phone too much.
It’s not often that people comment nowadays on the outfits online. But they do when I see them in real-life. They tell me they ‘love to see my fashion posts, they brighten [their] day'. Or I’ll get a random email or DM encouraging me to start sharing again when I’ve had a break because it’s ‘fun to see what concoction I’m donning and that they’re ‘always happy’ outfits.’
So, maybe sharing how I look is superficial and self-absorbed, but at the same time it comes from a genuinely joyful place. And a ‘hell yeah’ to my hard-earned, and now carefully treasured, almost 48-year-old meat suit. I only get one shot in this incarnation, so by God I may as well dress it well.
Over and out for now my loves,
Mwah. 💋
Suze xx
If you’re interested in my new venture, here it is: The Connection Rebellion
Supporting parents and educators to ease their tweens and teens off screens for a healthy life.
What I love about your fashion pics is your smile of genuine pleasure of what you are wearing. #goals